To Win Is to Rise Each Time You Fall

To Win Is to Rise Each Time You Fall

TO WIN IS TO RISE EACH TIME YOU FALL

I want to speak to those of you who did not get a special prize this morning. I went through my whole school career and never once got a prize. I though that I was pretty much no good. Here are some of my highlights:

* I remember in grade 8 running a 100 metre hurdle race - I think I knocked each of the hurdles over - they were so high you needed a pole vault to get over them.

* I remember going out royal duck in cricket one time - it took me forever to pad up and walk out to the crease and I did not even smell the ball that crashed into my wickets - it was a long walk back!!!

* I remember getting 25% for Latin in Grade 9 - the teacher was not impressed.

* In Matric I got 2 C's, 3 D's and an E - hardly a candidate for Dux of the school!

How do you carry on with life when you have a track record like mine at school?

But after school I went to theological college and guess, what I graduated Cum Laude (that means I averaged over 75 percent for all 40 courses over 4 years). I each got an average in the 90s for both Greek and Hebrew Studies. Then I went to Damelin and did a training diploma. No only did I graduate with distinction, but I won the meritous award for being the top student in the whole class.

I am not trying to brag this morning to puff myself up in your sight - all I want to say to you is that you are never down and out until the race is over. I want to challenge you, even if you have not managed to get an award today - keep working, never give up - you can still make a success in your life!!!

Here is some advice from Jesus - Read Hebrews 11:1-4

Let me read you a poem that is really special to me.

Read: The Race

Say: The secret to winning the race of life is to get up each time you fall.

Most importantly you need to keep looking for what you have been made to be - you have to discover what God wants you to be and then become all you can be in that area.

Poem: The Animal School

THE RACE

By D.H.Groberg

"Quit! Give up! You're beaten!" They shout at me and plead.

There's just too much against you now. This time you can't succeed!"

And as I start to hang my head In front of failure's face,

my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.

And hope refills my weakened will as I recall that scene;

For just the thought of that short race rejuvenates my being.

A children's race-young boys, young men, how I remember well.

Excitement, sure! But also fear; it wasn't hard to tell.

They all lined up so full of hope; each thought to win that race.

Or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.

And fathers watched from off the side, each cheering for his son.

And each boy hoped to show his dad that he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they went! Young hearts and hopes afire.

To win and be the hero there was each young boy's desire.

And one boy in particular, whose dad was in the crowd,

was running near the lead and thought, "My dad will be so proud!"

But as they speeded down the field across a shallow dip,

the little boy who thought to win, lost his step and slipped.

Trying hard to catch himself His hands flew out to brace,

And mid the laughter of the crowd He fell flat on his face.

So down he fell and with him hope, he couldn't win it now.
Embarrassed, sad, he only wished to disappear somehow.

But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,

which to the boy so clearly said: "Get up and win the race."

He quickly rose, no damage done. Behind a bit, that's all –

and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.

So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win -

His mind went faster than his legs; He slipped and fell again!

He wished then he had quit before, with only one disgrace.

"I'm hopeless as a runner now; I shouldn't try to race."

But in the laughing crowd he searched and found his father's face.

That steady look which said again: "Get up and win the race!"

So up he jumped to try again ten yards behind the last –

"If I'm to gain those yards," he thought, "I've got to move real fast."

Exerting everything he had he gained eight or ten.

But trying so hard to catch the lead He slipped and fell again!

Defeat! He lay there silently, a tear dropped from his eye

“There's no sense running any more; Three strikes: I'm out! Why try?”

The will to rise had disappeared, all hope had fled away;

so far behind, so error prone; a loser all the way.

"I've lost, so what's the use," he thought. "I'll live with my disgrace."

But then he thought about his dad who soon he'd have to face.

"Get up," an echo sounded low. "Get up and take your place;

you were not meant for failure here. Get up and win the race."

"With borrowed will, get up," it said, "You haven't lost at all,

for winning is no more than this: To rise each time you fall."

So up he rose to run once more, and with a new commit he resolved

that win or lose, at least he wouldn't quit.

So far behind the others now, The most he'd ever been.

Still he gave it all he had and ran as though to win.

Three times he'd fallen, stumbling;

Three times he rose again; too far behind to hope to win

He still ran to the end.

They cheered the winning runner as he crossed the line first place,

head high, and proud, and happy; No falling, no disgrace.

But when the fallen youngster crossed the line last place,

the crowd gave him the greater cheer for finishing the race.

And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud,

you would have thought he'd won the Race to listen to the crowd.

And to his dad he sadly said, "I didn't do so well."

'To me, you won," his father said. "You rose each time you fell."

And now when things seem dark and hard and difficult to face,

the memory of that little boy helps me in my own race.

For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.

And all you have to do to win, Is rise each time you fall.

"Quit! Give up! You're beaten!" They still shout in my face.

But another voice within me says: "GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!"